Wrede, Patricia C - Mairelon 02 (7 page)

           
"Maybe
you're right," Tom said thoughtfully. "Mannering deals with toffs all
the time, what with his business and all. He ain't like Laverham, passing off
sham gentility."

           
"It
wasn't
no
sham with Laverham," Kim said. "He
was born on the wrong side of the blanket, but he was a toff, sure
enough."

           
"No!
Laverham?
You're bamming me."

           
Thankful
to have found a neutral topic to take Tom's mind off fretting, Kim allowed
herself to be drawn into gossip about old acquaintances. Tom reciprocated as
well as he was able. Many of her former fellows were in Newgate Prison,
"polishing the King's iron with their eyebrows" as they looked out
through the barred windows. Some had been transported; a few, like Laverham,
had been hung. On the whole, it was a depressing catalog, and Kim was almost
glad when time came to give Tom a final "Thank you" and slip away at
last.

           
The
shadows on the streets and alleys seemed darker and more threatening as she
made her way down Thread needle toward the
Thames
. Even
at this hour, the street was not quite deserted, and she kept a wary eye on the
bingo boy staggering from one public house to the next and the tired
costermonger pushing his barrow home from
Covent Garden
.

           
Mairelon's
carriage waited at the end of the street, just where she had left it. Hunch sat
in the coachman's seat, chewing on the ends of his mustache. When he saw Kim,
his gloomy expression lightened in relief, and he thumped on the carriage roof.
"She's 'ere, Master Richard."

           
There was
a muffled noise from inside, then Mairelon's head poked out of the carriage
window. "There you are, Kim! I was just about to come and fetch you."

           
"It
hasn't been that long," Kim said. "Tom and I had things to talk
about."

           
"You
can tell me about it on the way home," Mairelon said. He sounded somewhat
disgruntled, and when Kim climbed into the carriage, she saw that he had
changed into a workingman's wrinkled shirt, vest, and breeches.

           
He's
disappointed because he couldn't go larking about the alleys,
Kim thought,
and shook her head. He ought to have better sense. She smiled suddenly,
remembering her own eager response to the thought of a night out.
Seems like neither of us is strong on good sense.

           
"Well,
what happened?" Mairelon said as the coach began to roll. "Did Correy
just want to talk over old times?"

           
"Not
exactly," Kim said. "Jack Stower's loose, and Tom thinks he's trying
to make trouble." She repeated what Tom had said about Mannering, his
ambitions, and his apparent interest in Mairelon and Kim.

           
When she
finished, Mairelon rubbed his chin, frowning. "What else do you know about
this Mannering fellow?"

           
Kim
shrugged. "He's a moneylender. He never had much to do with the canting
crew, that I heard, but he wasn't above
laying
out a
bit of the ready to folks like Laverham, that had some security to offer. It
don't--
doesn't
--make sense that he'd want to take
Laverham's place. He's more of a gent already than Laverham ever was."

           
"Perhaps
he's not interested in climbing the social ladder. Or perhaps he has . . .
unusual methods in mind." Mairelon smiled suddenly. "Perhaps I should
drop in at his office one day soon."

           
"There
ain't
no
call for that," Kim said, alarmed.
"We got enough on our plates already, what with that cove poking around
after that book and all. There's no reason to go
looking
for
trouble."

           
"Of
course not," Mairelon said, but the impish smile still hovered around the
corners of his mouth. Kim resolved to have a talk with Hunch. Maybe the
manservant could get some sense into Mairelon's head, or at least keep him from
going off half-cocked and stirring up a pot of problems.
Maybe.
Not that anyone seemed to be able to check Mairelon's queer starts when he got
the bit between his teeth.

           
"I
wish I hadn't said anything about it at all," Kim muttered as the coach
drew up behind the townhouse.

           
"What?"
Mairelon said.

           
"I
said I wish I hadn't told you about Mannering," Kim repeated.

           
"Why?"
Mairelon studied her face for a moment. "You're really worried about this,
aren't you?"

           
"Tom
doesn't get all nattered over nothing. And he's nattered about Mannering and
Stower, right enough."

           
"I
see." Mairelon hesitated,
then
nodded slowly.
"Very well.
I won't pursue the matter until we've dealt
with our literary housebreaker, unless we get some further indication that
pursuing it would be advisable. And I'll speak to you beforehand."

           
"Fair
enough," Kim said, slightly dazed.
He wouldn't say it if he didn't mean
it.
Don't that
beat everything?

           
"Then
if that's settled, I suggest you turn your attention to sneaking inside without
waking Aunt Agatha. I see no reason to precipitate another scene if we can
avoid it."

           
"Right,"
said Kim, and slid out of the carriage.

           
Kim woke
late the following morning, to sunlight and the clatter of carriage wheels on
the cobbles below her window. As she dressed, she considered what to do with
the little heap of boy's clothes in the corner of the wardrobe. If a housemaid
found them, she'd report to Mrs. Lowe and there was sure to be a row. Finally,
Kim stuffed them in a hatbox, tucking them around the hat as best she could,
and shoved the box back onto the top shelf of her wardrobe. With luck, she
could think of some excuse to give the box to Hunch later in the day, and he
could dispose of the clothes without causing comment.

           
Feeling
unreasonably cheerful, Kim left her bedroom and started downstairs. Halfway
down the first flight of stairs, she heard muffled thumps and shouts drifting
up from the lower floors. She quickened her pace, wondering what was going on
now. It couldn't be the cracksman again, not in broad daylight.

           
As she
turned onto the last landing, she heard an unfamiliar feminine voice below
shriek, "Darby! Close that door at once!"

           
"He's
headed for the stairs!" a second voice cried. "Catch him!"

           
An
instant later, a small, yellow-brown monkey leaped onto the banister railing
just in front of Kim and directed a high-pitched shriek of defiance at his
pursuers. Kim, momentarily unnoticed, reached out and collected him in a firm
hold. The monkey shrieked again, this time in surprise. Then, wrapping his long
tail firmly around Kim's wrist, he relieved himself on her skirt.

           
"Don't
think you're getting out of it that easily," Kim told him. Maintaining her
hold with some care, so as to be sure that she would neither hurt the monkey
nor be bitten herself, she rounded the corner and looked down.

           
The entry
hall was full of people, boxes, and trunks. At the bottom of one of the piles
of luggage, a large wicker cage lay on its side, its door open wide. Several
disheveled footmen and an elderly, bright-eyed man in a coachman's many-caped
cloak were scrambling over boxes and trunks toward the stairs; in the far
corner, one of the housemaids was having hysterics. In the center of the
commotion stood a tiny doll of a woman, looking upward with anxious hazel eyes.
Her brown hair, where it curled out from under an exceedingly elegant
wide-brimmed hat, was liberally streaked with grey. When she saw the monkey in
Kim's arms, her worried expression broke into a cheerful smile that was the
mirror of Mairelon's.

           
"Ah,
you have captured Maximillian! Thank you very much. Would you be so kind as to
bring him here and restore him to his cage? It is by far the simplest thing,
when he is so nervous and upset. I am afraid he dislikes traveling."

           
Willingly,
Kim made her way to the foot of the stairs and deposited the monkey in the
wicker cage, which one of the footmen had hastily righted. The woman secured
the latch with a small padlock and said to the footman, "Now, take him up
to the library, and be sure to put the cage in a corner where it will not be
overturned again. I will bring him water and a bit of fruit presently, when he
is more settled." She turned to Kim. "You must be my son's ward, Kim.
I am so pleased to meet you at last. I am Lady Wendall."

           
Kim
stared, her brain scrambling in several directions at once.
Lady?
Her son's ward?
This is Mairelon's mother, and she's a
Lady Wendall?
Feeling a strong sense of ill-usage, she belatedly bobbed a
curtsey.
Somebody ought to have warned me!

           
As she
straightened, she found herself being critically examined by the diminutive new
arrival. "I thought so," Lady Wendall said cryptically after a
moment. "My dear, who has--"

           
A door
down the hall opened. "Whatever is going on?" Mrs. Lowe said as she
came out into the hall, and then, in thunderstruck tones,
"
Elizabeth
?"

           
"Good
morning, Agatha," Lady Wendall said. "I should think that what is
going on is obvious; the footmen are moving my trunks in."

           
"What
. . . how . . . why wasn't I informed?"

           
"I
told them not to disturb your breakfast." Lady Wendall nodded at the
footmen,
then
favored Mrs. Lowe with a charming smile.
"Speaking of breakfast, I am positively famished; these early hours are
not what I am accustomed to. Do join me, and we shall talk while we eat."

           
With
that, Lady Wendall swept past Mrs. Lowe into the dining room. Mrs. Lowe pursed
her lips as if she had bitten into a bad orange, glared at the footmen, and
went after Lady Wendall. Kim hesitated; they might not want her to join them.
But neither of them had said anything, and the temptation was irresistible. She
followed them in.

           
Lady
Wendall had gone straight to the sideboard and was shaking her head over the
dishes as she lifted the covers. Mrs. Lowe watched for a moment, her face a
politely frozen mask, then took her seat. As she picked up her fork, she saw
Kim in the doorway, and her eyebrows twitched together. "Whatever have you
done to your dress, Kim?"

           
"It
was the monkey," Kim said.

           
"Monkey?"
Mrs. Lowe blinked, for once at a
complete loss.

           
"Yes,
and quite unpleasant for you, I'm sure," Lady Wendall said, turning toward
the table with her hands full of loaded dishes. "Use one of the napkins to
clean it off for the time being."

           
"She
can't sit down to breakfast like that!" Mrs. Lowe protested as Kim set to
work with the cloth. "She must go and change at once."

           
"I'm
sure Kim is just as hungry as I am," Lady Wendall said with a smile.
"It wouldn't be kind to make her wait.
Unless you'd
rather change first, Kim?
We can all wait for you, if you'd
prefer."

           
Kim
shrugged. "It's no matter to me." Having food at all had always been
far more important to her than the condition of the clothes she wore to eat it.
She set the napkin on a side chair and began filling her plate.

           
"The
stain will set and ruin the dress," Mrs. Lowe said.

           
"So
much the better," Lady Wendall responded with unimpaired calm. "It's
not a good color for her at all, and I intend to have it disposed of as soon as
possible."

           
Mrs. Lowe
stared, and her chin lifted. "Disposed of?" she said in ominous
tones.

           
Lady
Wendall nodded.
"Unless you're particularly fond of it,
Kim.
It's well enough to wear about the house in
Kent
,
but not for your first Season in
London
."

           
"It
is entirely appropriate for a girl in her situation," Mrs. Lowe said
firmly.

           
"I
didn't say it was inappropriate," Lady Wendall said gently. "I said
it was unbecoming. And Kim will want to look her best during her
come-out."

           
"
Elizabeth
,
I do hope you are not going to encourage Richard in this notion he has taken of
having the girl presented."

           
Kim's
half-formed protest stuck in her throat. She wasn't going to have a come-out,
she'd settled that with Mairelon, but she couldn't quite say so if it meant
agreeing with Mrs. Lowe in public. She coughed, trying to clear away the
obstruction, but before she could find a good way to phrase her comment, the door
opened and Mairelon entered.

           
"Good
morning, Mother," he said. "I thought it must be you when I heard the
commotion in the hall, and I was sure of it when I found a monkey in the
library.
Why a monkey, of all things?"

           
"Yes,
isn't he charming?" Lady Wendall said. "Pahari Singh sent him to me.
Actually, he sent three of them, but I'm afraid the other two didn't survive
the voyage from
India
."

           
"
Three
monkeys?"
Mrs. Lowe said.

           
"Who
is Pahari Singh, and why on earth would he send you one monkey, let alone
three?" Mairelon demanded.

           
"He
was a good friend of your father's, from his days in
India
,
though that, of course, was before you and Andrew were born. He was in
London
a few years ago on business, and he made a point of renewing the
acquaintance."

           
"That
explains who he is," Mairelon said, "but not why he should choose to
send you a batch of monkeys."

           
"I
believe he wanted to make sure I would have more than one serving," Lady
Wendall replied.
"Though his note was not exactly
specific on the subject."

           
"Serving?"
Mrs. Lowe said faintly. She set her fork carefully beside her unfinished
breakfast. "
Elizabeth
. .
."

           
Mairelon
looked at Lady Wendall with considerable misgiving. "Mother, are you
saying that Mr. Singh sent you this creature as a . . . an addition to your
dinner menu?"

           
"In a way.
Monkey brains are considered a delicacy in
India
,
and--"

           
"You're
going to eat a
monkey brain
?" Kim broke in, thoroughly taken aback.

           
Lady
Wendall gave a regretful sigh. "Not any time soon, I am afraid. I simply
couldn't bear to have Maximillian slaughtered. It will just have to wait until
the next time I visit
India
."

           
"Thank
goodness for that," Mairelon said. "You know, monkeys are filthy
creatures. You're lucky he doesn't have lice. Or fleas."

           
"Oh,
he had both, when he arrived," Lady Wendall said imperturbably. "I
had him bathed, naturally."

           
"I
should hope so," Mrs. Lowe put in. She appeared to have recovered her
equanimity, though she had not yet returned to her breakfast. "That does
not explain, however, why you have chosen to introduce him into this
household."

           
"Well,
Lord Wendall couldn't very well take Maximillian to
Suffolk
with him, and I couldn't very well leave him in
Russell
Square
with the renovations going on. So of course
I brought him with me."

           
"Renovations?"
Mairelon frowned. "Mother . .
."

           
"Renovations?"
Mrs. Lowe stared. "
Elizabeth
,
do you mean to say that you intend to stay
here
for the entire
Season?"

           
"Yes,
of course," Lady Wendall said. "Lord Wendall and Andrew are going to
be in
Suffolk
discussing canals for
the greater part of it, so Andrew offered to let me use the townhouse. He did
warn me that Richard and Kim--and you, of course, Agatha--would be here, and I
was of two minds about it until I heard that Richard was planning to give Kim a
formal come-out."

           
"And
when did you hear that?" Mrs. Lowe said, with a look at Mairelon that
would have set fire to a heap of coal.

           
"Yesterday,
at Lady Weydon's saloon," Lady Wendall replied. "Sally Jersey told
me; she had it from someone who had been having tea with Richard. And I can
already see that I was quite right to come." She turned to Mairelon.
"Really, Richard, I thought you'd have had better sense. You've got her
rigged out like a greengrocer's daughter."

           
"Kim's
clothes are entirely suitable for her situation," Mrs. Lowe said,
bristling.

           
Kim
shifted uncomfortably. "It's not slap up to the nines, but neither am
I."

           
"Nonsense,"
Mairelon said. "You look perfectly all right to me."

           
"That
is precisely the problem," Lady Wendall told him. "Why on earth
didn't you ask your friend Mademoiselle D'Auber to help you? If there's one
thing the French know how to do,
it's
dress."

           
"She
offered," Mairelon admitted, looking a little guilty, "but we didn't
have time before Kim and I went down to
Kent
,
and since we've been back, there have been other things. . . ."

           
"Well,
you had better send her a note today," Lady Wendall said. "I shall be
occupied in going through Kim's clothes, to see which of them are suitable, and
in engaging an
abigail
for her."

           
Mrs. Lowe
frowned. "Surely one of the housemaids will do well enough."

           
"I
don't want an abigail," Kim said. "And--"

           
"I
don't blame you in the least," Lady Wendall told her, "but an
abigail
you must have if we are to launch you into
Society." She studied Kim for a moment, her expression disconcertingly
like Mairelon's when he was concentrating all his attention on something.
"Someone young and flexible, I think, who will know when to make
allowances for the eccentricities of wizards."